


hurry up and wait

by Cockbite (personalized_radio)



Series: NSFW/PWP [5]
Category: The Creatures | Cow Chop RPF
Genre: Blindfolds, Dom/sub, Face Slapping, Gags, Humiliation, M/M, Multi, PWP, Subspace, its just straight up 15k of smut guys thats it, kinda smoking???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 11:13:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12703854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/personalized_radio/pseuds/Cockbite
Summary: james gets slapped around (sometimes literally)





	hurry up and wait

**Author's Note:**

> lmao aleks blew smoke in james' face while brett held him in place in patreon.avi and tay immediately said like 'that sounds like its something you would write' and her message literally interupted me already writing this so thats where im at in my life

“You really wanna do this?” Aleks had asked him, when James had first reluctantly brought it up. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” He’d shrugged, like it was no big deal, “Try it, at least. I think it’d be cool.”

“Cool?” Brett had raised an eyebrow, smirking a little, and James’ face had gone hot but he’d tried to keep it together. Not show how much he wanted it.

“Yeah.” He’d taken a second to shape the word in his mouth, “Cool.”

“Hm,” Aleks had leaned across the small space of their couch, got all up in his space, and James had held still. Tried not to let Aleks scent blood in the water. “Yeah, okay,” Aleks had agreed, leaned back with a shrug, “Why not? You in, Brett?”

“Hey. Anything for my boys,” Brett had shrugged, and that had been that.

-

He’s here, now; Brett forcing his arms behind his back, shoving him against his own door, laughing at him when he tries to get away.

“No point in that,” Aleks says lightly and James can see him out of the corner of his eye, leaning against the wall, arms crossed and his sunglasses perched on the ridge of his nose.

“Fuck you,” He snaps back, and then Brett gets a good grip of his hair in its bun and presses his face roughly to the wood of the door. He twists his arm hard, painful enough that James goes still with a gasp and then brings James to the tips of his toes when he presses up, just the threat that he could snap James’ arm in a heartbeat if he wanted.

“Stop struggling.” Brett orders, and his voice has gone rough and growly, that tone that always has James shaken to the bone.

“What if I don’t?” He grits out, squeezing his eyes shut tight against the discomfort when Brett uses his hair to rub his face against the door in response.

“I break something.”

“You wouldn’t -” James cuts himself off with a yelp, going higher on his toes like he can escape it when Brett jerks his arm just a little bit more. His shoulder is starting to protest, the telltale sign that James has to make a decision to call it or give in, and he wants to push, wants to see just how far Brett’ll take this - but he’s not so far gone that breaking his arm will make him horny, and he doubts it would put either of them in the mood, either. So, with an angry hiss, he nods as best he can against the grip on his hair.

“Okay -”

“Okay, _what_?” Brett cuts him off, leaning with enough weight on his back that James is pressed even harder into the wood.

“Jesus, okay, _sir_!”

“There we go.” Brett releases his arm and James lets it drop with a soundless gasp of relief. He rolls his shoulders, thinks about trying to run, and then loses the chance to because Brett tightens the hold on his hair and shakes his head again, this time just to show he can. It makes James a little dizzy, makes him nearly reach up to grab Brett’s wrist and hold it, more just to hold on than to stop him, because it’s also making his head feel - cloudy. Christ, he’s already getting cloudy.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” Aleks says, all casual, and James can’t even turn his head to look at him anymore, not with the grip Brett has on him. He’s dug his fingers under the tie, really gripped at the roots of his hair, hard enough that James is kind of scared that he’s gonna fuckin’ pull some out, and he isn’t letting up even a little. He’s pinned James enough to know that letting up before he has James where he wants him is only gonna end up with having to grapple him again.

“Brett’s gonna strip you down,” Aleks continues, like he’s telling James about a show he kinda watched a while ago, “Cuff your hands behind your back, and then we’re gonna throw you around a little until we get bored. Maybe we’ll let you go after. Maybe not.”

“Fuck you, Aleks,” James sneers, and Aleks makes a noise like he’s contemplating that.

“Tempting,” Aleks says, like he’s amused and vaguely trying to appease him, “But, uh, I like my idea better. Why don’t we tape that fuckin’ mouth shut, too, while we’re at it?”

“One thing at a time, man,” Brett grunts, and then he’s dragging James away from the door by his hair and deeper into the house. James yelps again, grabs at Brett’s wrist like he’d resisted doing earlier, but Brett’s just got too good a grip and there’s no escaping it. Brett doesn’t slow down either, just keeps walking. He doesn’t give a shit if James trips or if he _wants_ to follow - James’ got no choice if he wants to keep his goddamn scalp, and the sharp pain of the controlling grip has his eyes watering against his will. He stumbles after Brett, catches a glimpse of Aleks watching with his fucking sunglasses and boots still on, unlit cigarette hanging between his smirking lips.

“Brett,” He can’t help but whine as soon as Aleks disappears from sight, half hoping that he can wheedle his way into a less punishing grip now that Aleks isn’t there to watch, but Brett doesn’t even spare him a glance.

“Shut up,” Brett says instead, in that same growly voice that has James’ knees going kinda weak, and James swallows, lets himself be dragged into the family room at the back of the house. It’s a dark room; purple walls, pleather furniture, ash trays and a stocked bar against the wall, a window that shows off the back yard with thick, black-out curtains. They don’t use it very often, it’s not got a TV or any gaming shit or anything like that. It’s kind of exclusively used for a purpose similar to this, or when one of them just wants to get away and go dark for a bit, and James is glad that he’s got it. It makes his spine go a little less rigid as soon as Brett yanks him through the door. Even when he’s getting tossed to the floor like a fuckin’ sack of potatoes, it’s in _this room_ , and his brain associates it with _relax_ , with _safe_ , and it’s not doing anything to clear up the cloudy feeling, is what he’s saying.

“Get on your knees,” Brett points at the spot in the middle of the plush carpet between the couch, loveseat, and recliner, “And if your arms aren’t behind your goddamn back when I get there, so help me,”

James grumbles, but he picks himself up, brushes himself off primly and then stalks over to the spot and drops to his knees. Brett gives him a dark look and he wrinkles his nose at him in response, but clasps his arms behind his back. Brett, with a final warning glare, turns his back to James to go to the small shelving unit in the corner. It’s dark wood, almost blends into the shadows that the dark purple of the walls and the dim lighting in that part of the room creates. Aleks calls it their sex shelf, and James would never say it out loud, but it kind of fits.

He takes the opportunity that Brett’s back to him presents, and drops onto his butt, crosses his legs instead and crosses his arms tight across his chest. He doesn’t know where Aleks is, and he doesn’t like that a single bit, but he won’t make this easy for Brett just because he doesn’t know what Aleks is up to.

“James,” Brett says warningly when he turns around to see he’s changed positions. “You gonna make this hard for yourself?”

“I haven’t even _done_ anything,” James huffs, “You can’t just manhandle me around the house because you _feel_ like it.”

“Actually,” Brett doesn’t even have to come closer, his smile is enough to made James’ heart pick up. “I think I can. You’ve got until I get to the carpet to fix yourself, or you’re not gonna fuckin’ like what happens.”

James manages to hold himself still until Brett is a step away and then, mostly because he’s kind of scared of the look Brett’s getting, like he _wants_ James to disobey, he shifts; gets his legs under him so he’s on his knees and puts his arms behind his back, grips his wrists in his hands. He drops back to rest his weight against his heels and it takes some of the strain off his thighs but he knows his feet won’t thank him for it later.

“That’s what I thought,” Brett scoffs, gives him an amused look, “Just rebel enough to get a rise, too scared to stick it out, huh?”

“Fuck off,” James starts to move, lets go of his wrists, and then Brett’s got his bun in hand again and James is gonna cut his goddamn hair all off so Brett can’t just -

He gets bent over before he can even stop it, all the way down until his forehead is against the floor. “Hey!” He flails, but Brett just moves so he’s kneeling in front of him, traps the bits of James’ hair that have fallen out of the bun between the floor and one of his knees so James can’t get away and grabs one of his shoving hands and slaps a cuff around his wrist.

“Don’t you fuckin’ -” James tries to push his hands away but Brett just twists his arm behind his back with one hand and then grabs the other with his free hand and twists that one too until he’s got James how he wants him. James doesn’t stop trying to get away until Brett’s got both wrists in the cuffs and he realizes they aren’t padded. James is into some shit, but he doesn’t want to hurt himself _that_ much, and he stops trying to pull the cuffs apart.

Brett lets off his hair but, panting, James doesn’t try to sit up. Leaves his forehead pressed into the blush carpet. It’s soft against his face, and the cuffs have settled something in his chest. There’s no getting out of them without the key, and James doesn’t have that. He won’t _get_ that until they decide to give it to him or he calls his safe word.

“Fuck,” He hears Brett mutter under his breath, and then Brett’s gentling him into sitting up, hands soft and kind, much different from how he’d been throwing James around before, and James would say something about it except his tongue feels heavy.

“Man, right after you get the cuffs is always a good look,” Brett says lightly, then frowns thoughtfully, “We’re gonna have to cut the shirt off.”

“No,” He frowns, looks down at his tee. It’s a good tee, he likes this wrestler even though he can’t remember his name right now, “Just take the cuffs off -”

“Not a fuckin’ chance,” Brett laughs, like James is amusing, “You should have thought of that before you made me force the cuffs on. I told you, you wouldn’t like it if I got here and you weren’t in position.”

“I _was_!” James says with outrage, because he _had been_ \- but Brett just gives him a look and pulls a switchblade out of his pocket. “ _Brett_.”

“Color?” Brett really does pause, thoughtful, and James takes a careful moment to think through the fog. Does the shirt mean enough to him to call yellow? He glances down.

“Green,” he says quietly.

“What was that?” Brett says, putting a little more emphasis on his words than necessary, and James flushes a little.

“Green, _sir_.”

“That’s what I thought you were trying to say,” Brett flicks the blade of the knife out and kneels in front of James. “Don’t move a fucking muscle or we’re stopping.”

He’s serious, he’s done it before, and James is willing to push, but he knows Brett takes the knife thing seriously - none of them had a blood thing goin’ on - so he freezes. Brett pats his thigh approvingly, and James refuses to acknowledge the thrill that such a simple action causes. He holds still when Brett makes two small nicks in the sleeves of his shirt and exhales slow when Brett sets the knife down and then braces himself when Brett grips the two bits of fabric to either side of one of the nicks. James can’t help but watch the way his muscles flex as he rips the sleeve from the seam at the end all the way to the neckline of the shirt. James shouldn’t find that as hot as he does, especially when it’s happening to one of his fucking shirts, but he knows Brett can hear the way his breath catches when he rips the other sleeve so that the shirt just - drops to around his waist, exposes his chest and stomach for Brett to look at.

James feels exposed, vulnerable, and he tries to curl in on himself but Brett knows what he’s doing before he even does it and has a steady hand on his shoulder before he can start to turn in.

“Stop,” He says firmly, “You don’t hide from us.”

And he says it like it’s an order, but it’s a reminder that James doesn’t _need_ to hide, too. He takes a hard breath, still a little winded from his struggles to keep his hands from getting cuffed, and then nods just a little.

“Now, stand up. You’re wearing too many clothes.”

“I’m wearing basketball shorts,” James protests, but he fumbles to his feet and Brett doesn’t go up with him. Stays kneeling at his feet just long enough for it to make James’ stomach go bubbly and warm before he grips the ends of his shorts, and the boxers underneath, and rips them down.

It exposes James a lot quicker than he’s ready for and he flinches, nearly falls over if not for Brett’s steadying grip on his hip.

The mood shifts and James doesn’t know what causes it but it happens. One second, it’s like Brett is just looking for ways to humiliate him, breathing against the chub that clings to his hips and making his cock twitch in the open air - and the next, it’s something...different. Something intimate and soft between them.

“Step out,” Brett says quietly, looking up, and James does it without arguing, lifts one leg and then the other so Brett can toss the clothes away. He’s still wearing his sneakers, though, and Brett unlaces them both slowly. “Lift.” He taps after a second and, careful of his balance, James does. Brett pulls his shoe off, then his sock, and then he just...holds the heel of James’ foot in his hand, strokes along the sensitive skin of his ankle. He leans forward, presses a light kiss against James’ thigh, and it makes James’ chest go tight.

“Brett,” He swallows, and then forgets what else he wanted to say. Brett glances up to meet his eye again, and it’s with something close to reverence that he pulls the other shoe and sock off, leans down to kiss James’ ankle and then slowly make his way up James’ leg with gentle, scratchy kisses every inch or so. He doesn’t stop at the knee, just keeps pressing these gentle pecks all the way up to his pelvis, and then he switches to the other leg. James doesn’t realize he’s barely breathing until Brett presses an open-mouthed kiss to his inner thigh and it makes him inhale hard.

It feels - weird. Being naked when Brett isn’t, even if Brett is the one on his knees and James isn’t. Brett works his way up James’ body with those light kisses, grins a little when his beard against James’ belly makes him laugh, trails off the center of his kiss-trail to visit both of James’ nipples, thumb over both nubs until James gasps and then goes back to kissing up the middle of his chest. He presses a small kiss against James’ Adam’s apple, nuzzles into his beard, drags his along James’ until he finds his lips in what James is expecting to be a really, really good kiss.

Instead, Brett stops just a hair’s breath away, backs up a little when James tries to close the distance between them.

“We’re not done.” Brett says quietly, and it still makes James jolt a little. He realizes that his eyes have dropped almost closed, that he’s viewing everything through thin slits, and he tries to open them, but they feel heavy. His chest is loose, warm, but not entirely full. He wants more? But he doesn’t really know what _more_ is?

“Get back on your knees, James,” Brett says, all quiet and soft, and part of James wants to argue, wants him to _make him_ , but James drops to his knees because he wants Brett to pat him again.

Brett doesn’t pat him, and James is a little bit crushed at that, but he does collect all of James’ clothes, shoes included, and moves them to the corner with the shelf, out of the way.

James doesn’t even really think about moving. His arms are behind his back and he isn’t getting away. He just rests his weight on his heels, shakes the freed curls out of his face, blinks slow when Brett comes back over. Brett collapses into the couch, stretches out with his back against the armrest and one leg stretched out on the cushions, the other stretched out with the heel of his boot tilted against the floor.

“Stay,” He says sharply when James starts to come closer, close the feet of space between them that feels like _way too much space_ , and James freezes in place and bites back the urge to whine at him until he lets him come over. “Don’t move until Aleks comes back.”

“But -”

“James.” Brett pulls his phone out, “Shut up. Don’t move.”

James shifts on his knees, agitated, but goes quiet.

He doesn’t know how long he waits, but it feels like hours and hours. Brett doesn’t even _look_ at him, and James hates it. He wants his attention, wants his touch and his eyes on him and his voice yelling at him or saying his name. He tries to be good, in the end. He does. He tries to be still, tries to be quiet, tries to be good. He wants to be. But, he’s _him_ , and he wants Brett’s goddamn attention. He doesn’t like that _Reddit_ or fucking business emails are more interesting than him, naked and opened up, right in front of Brett’s face. It starts out with slight movement, under the guise of getting his blood flowing, and slowly morphs into a slow, careful shuffle closer. Like if he just...gets closer, Brett will be forced to look at him. The carpet’s soft against his skin, it was bought with this in mind, but it’s still _carpet_ , and it starts to rub his skin a little raw sooner rather than later. He doesn’t stop to preen about it, though. He’s got his asshole boyfriend to convince to look at him.

“Congratulations,” Brett sighs when James is close enough for him to touch. “You made it a whole ten minutes. That’s a new record.”

“You’re ignoring me,” James accuses, and maybe he comes off as a little more upset than he’d intended, but Brett finally looks up from his phone with a raised eyebrow.

“I wasn’t ignoring you.”

“You’re on your phone!”

“That doesn’t mean I was ignoring you,” Brett reaches out, grips his chin and pulls him in suddenly, fast enough that James loses his balance and has to catch himself against Brett’s arm. Brett still won’t _kiss him_ , but he runs his lips along his cheekbone, makes James inhale sharp, his eyes closing against the feeling.

“Yes, it does.”

“Sounds like you think you’re entitled to my attention,” Brett says against his jaw, and James frowns, forces his eyes open.

He doesn’t know how to say _I am_ without getting in trouble, so he doesn’t respond verbally, but his expression must be enough because Brett actually laughs out loud, leans back to look at him with a stupid, fond smile.

“We’re just waiting for Aleks,” he looks thoughtful again, like he’s deciding something, then tugs at his shoulders until James is lurching to his feet. “C’mere.”

James goes easy, likes this more than being on his knees, even if he does like being on his knees. Brett pulls him down on top of him so that he’s lying between his legs, back to chest. James rests his head against Brett’s shoulder, turns so that his forehead is pressed to Brett’s neck and Brett strokes his chest and belly, slow and methodical. Brett’s clothes feel rough against his skin. It’s not something he’d usually notice, but he feels hypersensitive, every nerve on fire, and Brett’s shirt is new enough that it isn’t worn-soft yet. Brett’s fingers are rough, too, but they’re gentle against his chest, just a slow skim of skin on skin as Brett strokes. It isn’t until James’ eyes are fully closed and he’s practically sleeping that Brett starts anything but, when he does, it has James wide awake in moments.

He settles one hand along James’ throat, the juncture between his thumb and pointer slotted neatly against the underside of James’ jaw. He doesn’t press down or try to cut off his breathing, but the threat - or promise - is there. His other hand stops skimming along the same trail it’s been following - collarbone to just under his ribs, where Brett stops being able to reach - and, instead, he trails his hand to the side, rubs a circle with his thumb and then roughly pinches one of James’ nipples between two fingers and twists. It has James yelping, going from soothed and sleepy to awake and aware all at once. He arches into it, tries to relieve the pressure, but he can’t get very far without choking himself against Brett’s hand, and his knees draw up instinctively. Brett huffs amusement into his ear, playing with his nipple like it’s a fucking game he’s messing with to pass the time.

“You hiding from me, James?”

“No,” James snaps, a little shrill, and forces his legs back flat, “You just, fuckin’ Christ, you scared me - _ow_ ,”

Brett chuckles, low and deep, into his temple. James’ hands twist into Brett’s shirt, tug and pull as a counter against the relentless assault on his nipple, and Brett finally lets go long enough for James to stop gasping and whining about it before he pinches the other one and it all starts over again.

“I see you two started without me,” Aleks says from the doorway, and James manages to crack his eyes open to see him. He’s still in his boots and jacket. The sunglasses are perched on his head, he’s still got an unlit cigarette between his lips, and there’s a roll of duct tape dangling off one finger of an otherwise closed fist.

“Just passing the time,” Brett shrugs from under James, pinches hard enough that James does arch hard enough to choke himself, toes curling and a high note of pain escaping.

“Noisy as fuckin’ ever,” Aleks sighs, walking into the room and shutting the door behind him. The click of it shutting properly is almost enough to send James spinning, but he manages to keep his wits about him. Brett’s nice to him when Aleks isn’t around, but he’s under no illusions that Aleks is gonna let him off easy.

“That was the tape for?”

“Yep,” Aleks lifts his hand and he’s got something clenched in his palm too, dark fabric, “Sorry it took so long. I was feeding the girls,”  
“‘S fine,” Brett tilts his head back and James can’t see it, but he hears them kiss soft and light, and it makes his stomach clench.

“He been good?”

Brett laughs in response, twists hard enough that James’ legs jerk a little, not quite trying to get out of the hold but only because he’s scared Brett won’t let go if he tries. “Of fucking course he hasn’t.”

“Shame,” Aleks sighs, like he’s disappointed, and it makes James want to curl up in a ball and bite him all at once. He was _gone_ , he doesn’t _get_ to be disappointed. Maybe James would have been better if they’d both been there like they were _supposed_ to be. “Why don’t you get him back where he belongs, Brett? I’ve got a few things.”

“Sounds exciting,” Brett says, and lets go of James’ nipple, rubs an apologetic circle against it that makes James wriggle, and then he’s rolling James off of him - and the couch - with no care at all.

James lands with an _oomph_ , unable to brace himself, and _ow_ \- “You _motherfuck -_ ”

“That’s not how you talk to him,” Aleks warns, and James squeezes his eyes shut against the feeling that rolls through him at that tone. It’s too amused, like Aleks thinks James is a fucking joke, and James _hates_ it as much as he loves it. When he opens his eyes, Aleks is crouching by his head, looking down at him with his arms resting across his knees.

“Get up and where you’re supposed to be, James. I’ve told you about bothering Brett until you get what you want.”

“He likes me more than you do,” James grumbles, and Aleks wrinkles his nose a little but doesn’t say anything until James has struggled to his knees again.

“That’s not true, babe,” Aleks reaches out and James’ throat catches. He shakes his head a little, tries to be difficult, but Aleks grip his chin like Brett had - unmoving and hard - and uses it to hold James in place. “I just don’t put up with your bullshit as much. Do I, Brett?”

“You’ve got a magical defense against the Bambi eyes and I think it means your heart is blacker than we originally thought,” Brett agrees, sounding amused, and James wants to look at him but Aleks has him in a staring contest that he can’t break.

“Nah,” Aleks leans forward a little and, once again, James is tricked into thinking he’s finally gonna get kissed. Instead, Aleks pauses just long enough to tease, their lips _almost_ touching, and then pecks the tip of his nose instead and stands up. “I’ve just had them turned on me long enough to know they’re hiding a misbehaving bitch.”

“Hey!”

“That’s not where you’re supposed to be, James,” Aleks snaps his fingers and points at the middle of the carpet and, angry and breathless in equal measure, James knee-walks awkwardly to the spot, casting angry glares at them both the whole journey.

Brett watches with amusement, having shifted so he’s sitting with his legs crossed at the knee, facing James, but Aleks isn’t even fucking _looking_ at him. Busy on his phone. James is gonna break their phones when he gets the chance - the _first opportunity he gets_ , they’re both going down the garbage disposal.

“How do you know I’m where I’m supposed to be if you won’t fuckin’ _look_ at me, Aleks _andr_ ,”

Aleks doesn’t pause in his typing but he does glance at Brett and ask, “Did you hear something?”

“Nothing important,” Brett shrugs, and it makes James’ blood go hot and furious.

“Good, because I could have sworn I heard someone forget their place, and that wouldn’t have turned out pretty for anyone.” Aleks pockets the phone, still not looking, and James shifts, starts feeling a little desperate.

He’s ripped open, is the problem. They maybe should have waited for the cuffs, because they always make him go all - gross and whiny, more than usual, and he can’t fucking stand when they pretend to ignore him, he hates it, especially when he’s like this, and they know that and that’s why they’re fucking _doing it_.

Brett raises an eyebrow at James, an unspoken command that James could choose to ignore, if he _wanted_ to. He does want to, but he also knows Aleks will stand there and pretend to check his email for the rest of their goddamn lives if he does and Brett won’t do a thing to stop him, so he takes a deep breath, lets it out, and relaxes into his proper position, drops his head so he’s looking at his knees.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, cheeks going hot and warm.

“I keep hearing things,” Aleks sighs, sounding put out, “Maybe I need to get my ears checked or somethin’,”

“I’m sorry, _sir_ ,” James snaps, a little louder, and Aleks makes a humming noise.

“Oh. Guess I was hearing him.”

“Dunno how you could ignore it,” Brett scoffs, “He doesn’t _stop talking_. Wanna go show him the shit you brought in?”

“Think he deserves it?”

“I think _we_ deserve it.”

“Good point,”

James looks up when he hears Aleks come closer, doesn’t flinch back when Aleks settles down in front of him and then puts the things he’d been holding down on the carpet next to him. James would look, but Aleks cups his face and he can’t stop his eyes from fluttering shut, from leaning into the familiar, comforting fingers.

“Look at me, James,” Aleks says quietly and it takes James a second to open his eyes, but he does and Aleks grins a little when he does. “Oh, boy. You’re lookin’ a little under.”

“Fuck off,” James wrinkles his nose at him and Aleks laughs, leans forward to kiss his nose again.

“See, it’s just that mouth of yours. But don’t worry, I got somethin’ that’ll shut it the fuck up for a bit. Until you decide to be good.”

He shakes James’ head suddenly, enough to get him dizzy and reeling again, and then drops his hands while James is still trying to right himself. He hears the pull and tear of some duct tape and has just a second to lurch back before Aleks grabs his chin again and slaps a length of tape across his mouth. It’s gonna be a _bitch_ when they rip it off later - and they will _rip_ it off later, if James knows either of them - and he tries to yell something but it’s muffled and indecipherable even to him. Aleks grins again, wide and proud.

“Perfect. Now you can just focus on being good without all that pressure to make us need to beat your ass,”

“ _Fuck you_ ,” James tries to spit, but the tape is new and good and there’s no fucking getting around it. He’ll have to poke at it with his tongue until he loosens it enough to rub off himself, and then he’s gonna bite the goddamn shit out of both of them.

“See? Perfect.” Aleks repeats, taps his lips through the tape and finally presses a kiss to them through it. It isn’t what James _wants_ , and it makes his eyes sting a little. He blinks hard a few times, breathes hard through his nose, wants to kiss Aleks back but can’t through the tape.

“And lastly,” Aleks swipes his thumb across the tape again and then drops his hands to lift up the fabric he’d been holding. It’s thick, dark and long - a blindfold.

James wants to say his name, not even sure himself if he can handle that with his mouth also covered, and Aleks seems to see the uncertainty because he strokes one of James’ cheeks with his thumb and kisses him between the eyes. “Hey. Snap if you want to stop.”

James presses his fingers together in the start of one, and then stops. Thinks. It’s not - that bad. He can do it - has done it. And, if worse comes to worse, he can snap. He relaxes his hand, nods a little since he can’t verbally agree and Aleks smiles at him.

“There’s my guy,” Aleks says, and it’s enough to have James’ chest tightening up, for his eyes to flutter closed again. Aleks settles the blindfold over his eyes, wraps the fabric around his head twice - not too tight, but enough that James would have to work at it to get it off and ties it off before he taps James’ cheek to get his attention.

“Nod if you can see anything - light included.”

James tries, but he can’t see anything, so he shakes his head again and he’s rewarded with another kiss to the tape. He can feel the pressure of Aleks’ lips, wants them against his own, and resolves to pin Aleks down and kiss him until his lips fall off later.

“Take his hair down,” Brett says, and he sounds so far away in comparison to Aleks that it makes James a little scared. He can’t see, he has no idea what either of them are doing. It’s a lack of control he doesn’t give into often, and to have his voice taken away too is making it so much worse. He wants to know where they are, wants them touching him.

He feels Aleks’ hands in his hair, careful but not gentle as he picks the tie out, and then his hair is down and he hears Brett make a pleased noise.

“He looks good,” Brett says, like James isn’t even there.

“He does,” Aleks agrees, and scrubs through his hair once, just enough to throw him off. When Aleks stands up, takes a step back, James panics. He yelps, makes as much noise as he can through the tape and starts to follow but Aleks presses down on his head, makes him stop.

“Stay, James.” He says sharply, “You’re not getting this. You aren’t in control. We decide where you go. I don’t give a shit if it’s what you want or not, _stay_.”

James wants to argue, can’t Aleks see that this is - it’s too much? Aleks has pushed him before, of course he has, but never quite like this, and James isn’t sure if he can handle it. His eyes or his voice, but never both. His fingers press together again, ready to snap.

“We’re right here, James.” Brett says, tone softer than Aleks’, “We’re right here. Relax, okay? You aren’t alone.”

“Don’t baby him,” Aleks mutters, but he still runs his hand through James’ hair one last time before making as much noise as possible on his way back to the couch. He sits with a loud sigh, and neither of them say anything after that but James can imagine what’s going on. They’re both still dressed from the run they’d done earlier, Brett all dark clothes to intimidate and Aleks in that douchey get up, and he can imagine the way Brett runs his hand through Aleks’ hair and tugs him into a kiss he isn’t sure if he’s imagining or listening to. They’re both free to look and talk and touch as much as they please, and it makes him jealous and hot all at once. He starts poking at the tape with his tongue, careful and slow so they don’t notice. He can hear wet noises, if he listens, the telltale sounds of the two of them making out. The couch doesn’t squeak, but the pleather creaks a little and he hears Aleks laugh, whisper Brett’s name in a cut off gasp, and he shifts on his knees.

“Stop moving,” Brett says sharply, and it makes him jolt. “Sit up straight or your back is gonna be pissed. Up, I mean it,”

James bares his teeth at him, but the tape and the blindfold both hide the sneer and, really, that’s the only reason he feels secure enough to do it. He’d snap and growl at Aleks all day because Aleks would just mock him for it. Brett’s put him over his knee before for disrespecting him.

But he straightens up, and his back does thank him for it, the slight twinges he’s been ignoring finally stopping as he spreads his legs a little, falls into a position that’s a little kinder to his body as a whole but puts more of him on display. He tilts his head back, breathes in and out. Between one breath and the next, he feels his heart start to calm down from the wild thrum it’s been at since Brett started playing with him.

“Good,” Brett says, sounding a little breathless, and James wishes he could see him. He hears a zipper come down and he can’t help the way his hands clench, the slight jingle of the chain between the cuffs. He doesn’t know if it’s Aleks’ jacket or if it’s someone’s jeans. He wishes they’d have let _him_ pull it down, whatever it was. He doesn’t like being so far away, especially like this. He feels disconnected, and not in the good way. He wants to be _with them_ , between someone’s legs or back in Brett’s lap or just...just close enough to be touched. They don’t even have to talk to him, he just - he just wants them to be close.

“James,” He hears Aleks say, sharp, and he shivers, swallows, straightens up so he’s facing the direction Aleks’ voice is coming from. One would think he’d have this room memorized by now, and he does, but it’s one thing to _know_ where things were and entirely another to trust that knowledge when he’s blindfolded and shivering in the cool air. “Come over here. I’ll tell you when to stop.”

Entirely too desperate to _be there_ , James doesn’t even argue. It’s awkward and a little floaty, sitting up off his legs to balance on his knees and knee-walk in the direction he thinks the couch is in, but he does it without complaining. His knees hit something soft sooner than expected and he freezes just long enough for Aleks to make an unhappy noise before he keeps going.

It’s a pillow, he realizes, around the same time Aleks says, “Okay, stop,”

He goes still, kneels on the pillow until he feels a big, rough hand settle in his hair and push down until he’s back in his relaxed position.

“Stay.” Brett scratches at his scalp and James can’t help but lean into it, turn his head and press his taped mouth against Brett’s wrist in a silent thank you.

“Now,” Aleks taps his chin and he tilts his face up. It seems to have been what Aleks wanted because he trails his fingers down James’ throat and then presses his palm flat against the base of his neck. “We’re gonna do whatever we want, and you’re just gonna sit here and take it. Right? Nod your head if I’m right.”

James, after taking a second, nods.

Someone, he thinks it’s Brett, immediately shoves him over. He lands on his side with a surprised yelp, curls in on himself and then whines high in his throat when someone grabs his hair and uses it to haul him back up and shake him like a goddamn ragdoll. It sends him tumbling, so close to the edge of just floating away, but someone - Aleks, he’s wearing rings, it’s Aleks - grabs his face again, squeezes until some of the tape gets ripped off all on its own and takes some of his fucking beard hair with it.

“Don’t go under,” Aleks says, dark, “You stay right fucking here. Understand?”

James wants to argue - he can’t _control_ it, he doesn’t just _decide_ he’s gonna slip into that space, and Aleks’ knows that. This is an impossible order, something he’s gonna be punished for, and he hates those, but he nods anyway, at best he can with the tight grip on his jaw. Aleks lets him go, but it’s rough, nearly a shove instead of just being released, and James pants through his nose, tries to keep his wits about him and then there’s a foot between his legs, knocking his knees wider apart so he sits lower. Someone grabs his hair again, they’ve got a fucking thing for his hair, and yanks him forward, until his face is buried in someone’s groin, He hears Brett groan, and the material against his skin is rough denim, scraps at his skin as Brett grinds into his face. He wishes he could mouth at Brett through it, but the tape is damning them both, so he just pants and squeezes his eyes shut behind the blindfold and lets Brett rub himself across his cheek and the bridge of his nose, over his eyes and his forehead. It feels - humiliating, but in a way that James kind of likes. He likes being used like this, hopes Aleks is watching with that open-mouthed look he gets when James is doing something particularly enticing.

He tries not to strain his hands against the cuffs, doesn’t want them to dig into his skin too badly, but he can’t help it. He wants to rest his hands on Brett’s thighs, clutch at them while Brett rolls his groin into James’ face through his jeans, let him unbuckle them and pull him out of his boxers.

He wants to do a lot, but all he _can_ do is let Brett do whatever _he_ wants and sit there and take whatever that is. It’s embarrassing, but it’s so much better than sitting on his own, not being touched or talked to, and he presses into it when Brett makes another, quieter, noise above him. He’s set to live his life like this, to never move again, but he really should have known better. Aleks liked to keep him on his toes and this time is no different. Brett lets go of his hair, stops moving his hips, and James barely has time to adjust to that before Aleks - his hands are smaller, they’re less careful with him - gathers up his hair in a tight grip and uses it to wrench him away from Brett and into Aleks’ lap instead. He expects the same treatment, he’s ready for it, but Aleks just - holds him in place. He’s panting, his chest heaving a little, and he can hear Brett making cut off little noises that make his dick twitch where it’s resting half hard in his lap, toes curled up in the pillow.

“You were doing real good there, babe,” Aleks sighs, like he’s disappointed, and then there’s a foot against his chest, shoving him back. He tries to catch himself but just falls back again, lands on his back and shoulders with a loud, muffled groan. “You just aren’t understanding. What part of _don’t fucking move_ isn’t making sense?”

James struggles to sit up, heart beating wildly, tries to say _please_ and _sorry_ all at once behind the tape, and he manages to get to his knees before one of them - probably Aleks, that _fucker_ \- actually slaps him across the face with enough force to send him back to the ground.

It’s - it’s a lot. One second, his brain is flying all over the place, his heart is going crazy and he’s trying to apologize and beg - the next, he’s quiet. Everything just goes quiet. It doesn’t _hurt_ at first; it was _loud_ for sure, but it had caught the fleshy part of his face and Aleks had obviously been holding back, but Aleks had still _hit_ him and something about that made him go all soft and gooey in his guts. The pain comes after the shock has settled - more of a burn, a hot soreness that radiates from his cheek and into his nose and eye for a few seconds before settling into a smarting heat in his cheek.

He doesn’t try to get up again, just stays on the floor on his side, breathing slow through his nose. The tape’s almost come off at one corner, but he doesn’t try to get it off all the way.

“There we go,” Brett says, low and pleased, like honey, and it makes James shiver. “Get up for us, sweetheart. Back on the pillow, on your knees.”

James hesitates just long enough that Aleks doesn’t jump in with some other order, and then slowly rolls back onto his knees and finds the pillow through a careful search. He settles back into it, the side of his face stinging pleasantly. Everything’s smooth and slow, now, like things are at half speed.

“You still with us, babe?” Aleks tilts his head up with a finger under his jaw, “Snap once for green, twice for yellow, three times for red.”

It takes James a second, but he snaps once. It’s barely there, he can’t quite get his fingers coordinated enough for it, but he does it.

Brett hums, “I think it’s time for the tape to come off. He can barely move his hands.”

“Good point,” Aleks says quietly, voice all soft and kind. It’s a stark contrast to the nail that picks off a corner of the tape across James’ mouth and rips it off in one fast go, taking probably a good amount of hair with it.

“ _Ow_ ,” James yelps, teetering dangerously but not quite catching himself until rough hands catch his shoulders.

“Color, James,” Aleks demands immediately and it takes James a good few seconds to get his head together enough to answer.

“Green. Green.”

“Good. You still with us, like I told you?”

“Barely,” James answers honestly, because he’s - he’s teetering for sure. He’d been able to hold on during the hair and the throwing parts, but the slap had. It had something.

“Hm.” Aleks hums thoughtfully, and James hears the flick of a zippo, the soft crackle of a flame for a few seconds, and then the smell of a lit cigarette. He hears Aleks inhale, then feels thick fingers - Brett’s - thread through his hair, pull him up roughly until he’s upright and rigid on his knees.

“You can let go, James,” Aleks decides, and then James has a face full of smoke. He inhales on instinct, coughs once, tries to get away from the smoke and gets another strike to the face for his efforts. It’s not as strong as the last one, but it’s on the same cheek and it makes the pain flare again. It doesn’t send him to the floor, because Brett’s still holding his hair tight in his fist, but it does send him fucking spiraling. He can’t tell which way is up or down, left or right. He gasps, his arms jerk, and then he just. Goes loose.

“Yeah, like that,” Aleks says, sounding amused and fond.

“C’mere, sweetheart,” Brett says, pulls him by his hair until he awkwardly crawls onto the couch. His limbs are heavy, feel distant and not quite controllable. The darkness of his blindfold, now that the tape is gone, is a comfort. He doesn’t need to see. They’ll take care of him. He settles on Brett’s lap, knees to either side of Brett’s thighs, rough denim against his ass, one strong arm around his waist, Brett’s other hand still in his hair. James goes easy, doesn’t try to fight or break the grip. He lets Brett guide his head to Brett’s shoulder, shivers when he feels Brett stroke up and down his spine, doesn’t protest when fingers dip a little lower, between his cheeks. He’s not fully hard, but he doesn’t think it would be hard to get him there, and the exploring fingers do a good job of it. The pad of one presses against his hole but doesn’t push in - even still, it’s dry and work-rough and the contact with the sensitive skin makes James’ body clench up without any input from him. He breathes against Brett’s neck, doesn’t try to pull away or push back against his fingers, just...let’s him do whatever. It’s all okay.

“See, look,” Aleks’ hand takes over stroking his spine and James just nuzzles against Brett’s shoulder, lets out a pleased sigh now that they’re both paying attention to him. “You’re having such a good time now that you’re all relaxed. Was that so hard?”

James doesn’t have a response for that, so he just slouches against Brett and hums instead of answering.

“Still bad at answering questions, though,” Brett says, and James feels the words rumble from his chest.

“What else is new?” Aleks laughs, and they’ve lost James - too many words when James really can’t do more than feel - but he likes that they both seem happy.

The fingers leave him, both of Brett’s hands instead massaging his lower back, slowly coming around until they’re gripping his hips tight, squeezing hard enough that he’s probably leaving marks, making him arch a little bit. Aleks pulls his hand back too. There’s a soft click and then Aleks’ hand is on him again, slick and unconcerned with comfort as he rubs the pads of two fingers against James’ hole and then presses them both inside.

“Aleks!” James chokes, unable to stop himself from arching up “Sorry, _sorry_ , ‘m _trying_ ,”

“I know,” Aleks promises as Brett’s grip on his hips presses him down so he can’t try to get away, and James gasps frantically into Brett’s shoulder and bears down because he’s got no other option. His body, even relaxed, isn’t easy to open up but Aleks isn’t being gentle or slow. He’s just - taking, and James can’t think, not really. Just...presses his forehead to Brett’s shoulder and lets him.

Aleks doesn’t stop until he’s knuckles-deep, but then he rests and makes shushing noises until James’ quiet whines have stopped. Brett doesn’t let up on his hips, but Aleks’ free hand touches him everywhere, up his back and through his tangled hair, brushes the tail of the blindfold away so he can scatter light, barely-there kisses across James’ shoulders. It takes him a while, a few good minutes of just - staying still and Aleks being still, too. Resting, together. James matches his breathing to Brett’s - slow, deep, and it has James’ eyes closing. Everything’s quiet, just the three of them breathing, and Brett strokes his sides with his thumbs while Aleks pokes and prods at his insides just a little, just enough that it keeps James from falling asleep. It isn’t that he’s bored - he’s just. Relaxed. Soothed, even with Aleks’ fingers in him and his dick hard and pressed against the rough material of Brett’s tee.

When Aleks starts to thrust them, just barely-there little pull-and-pushes, James sighs and arches just a little. He gets a sharp slap to his ass for it and that shatters the peace, makes him go rigid and cry out, sitting up a little only to be pressed back into place by Aleks’ hand. Brett grips his hips harder, really leaving bruises now, and growls low and rough into James’ neck.

“Don’t,” Aleks says gently, “Move. You were doin’ good, babe.”

“Sorry,” James breathes out and gets another slap to the opposite cheek for it, from Brett this time.

“I didn’t hear you, what was that?”

“Sorry, sir,” James says, louder, tenses up hard when Aleks stops pushing his face back into Brett’s shoulder and then slowly relaxes again when Aleks just rubs up and down his back.

“There we go,” Aleks soothes him, spreads his fingers wide inside of him, and James’ toes curl and his hands tighten into fists but he manages to stop his hips from trying to follow the feeling of Aleks’ fingers.

“More lube,” Brett finally lets up the grip on his hips and he feel the blood rush back into the spots where Brett’s fingers had been digging in. It hurts, aches all sore and sensitive, and then it’s just made worse when Brett readjusts his hands and tightens up again. James isn’t trying to get away anymore, he’s barely more than a relaxed pile of dead weight on Brett’s lap - he doesn’t have to hold him in place, but Brett likes to leave the marks and James likes to have them. It’s a grounding sort of pain, something that’ll keep his head in place even while he’s kind of floaty and soft and cloudy.

There’s another click and then _cold_ and he makes a soft, displeased sound but manages not to flinch away. Aleks pats his shoulder like how Brett had pat his thigh what felt like hours ago and it makes James shiver, flush warm with the praise. There’ll be more, if he’s good. He’s just gotta be good, and they’ll both fucking lavish him in pats like that and more.

Aleks works the lube into him, and it does make things slicker and easier. The third finger isn’t as unexpected. James is prepared for it, breathes in and out and makes himself relax and stop trying to fight against it, and Aleks already has two fingers to help him and it’s not _easy_ , but it’s not as rough as the initial penetration. Brett tilts his hips and James doesn’t try to help or hinder. That’s not his job, here. He’s just supposed to lay there, let them do what they want. That’s all he has to do. If they want something, they’ll tell him to do it, but he doesn’t have to try to anticipate it or guess what they want from him or even really go along with it when they do decide to do something. None of that is his job.

Brett presses a kiss to his shoulder and he lets his eyes close. He drifts.

“Oh fuck,” He hears Brett grunt, but that’s it. It's kind of far away, like there’s a layer of cotton between them, but he feels Aleks’ fingers intensely. He knows that they’re talking, probably about him, but he can’t understand a thing that’s being said, because it isn’t being said to him so he doesn’t have to worry about it. There’s no _James_ or _sweetheart_ or _babe_ tacked on at the end or beginning, so it isn’t for him to hear or understand, and that’s okay. He’s okay with that.

He feels Brett moving his hips a little after some time, lifting them so Aleks has more room, and Aleks isn’t as slow with the third finger as he was with the first two. He does something, brushes against James’ prostate, and his body _jolts_ , but he’s not worried. Aleks _knows_ he can’t control that, it isn’t his fault. He’s being good. He doesn’t get slapped, he was right, and he presses his nose against Brett’s shoulder and just rides it out.

He drifts, again. He knows that Aleks works him over for a while, knows that Aleks touches him in that spot a few times and that his body _reacts_ , but he also knows that he isn’t punished for it, and they don’t tell him to do anything. His shoulders are starting to ache, but it’s far away and he isn’t worried about it. He knows he should tell them, but he doesn’t want them to take the cuffs off. He feels - good, like this. Safe, secure. Held in place and happily so, so he doesn’t say anything. They’ll be pissed at him later, but this is...it’s too nice. It’s too good. He doesn’t want it to stop.

Finally, though, he feels Aleks’ fingers slip out, feels Brett’s hands release his hips and not just clamp back down somewhere else.

“Hey,” Brett trails up his sides, kneads the muscles of his upper arms and shoulders, keeps moving until he can grip James’ face and make him sit back and settle back on his lap properly. “Hey, sweetheart, come back. You in there?”

James hums because words are hard, remembers that snapping works but then can’t remember if snapping once means he wants to stop or if it means green. He settles on a slow, careful nod.

“Color, sweetheart,”

“Green,” James frowns, the word coming out a little weird. He clears his throat, shakes his head a little, feels his hair fly with him, then tries again. “Green. Sir.”

“There’s my boy,” Brett shakes his head a little, nothing fast, nothing that spirals James out of control, but it’s enough to keep him dizzy and discombobulated. “You think you can handle riding me, James?”

James wrinkles his brow, because of _course_ he can. “Yes, sir.”

“You sure? You gonna go under while you’re on me and nearly fuckin’ break my dick?”

“That happened _one time_ ,” James frowns, “Sir.”

“Once is enough, babe,” Aleks chimes in, sets a hand on one of James’ thighs, “That’s why you just sit and let Brett do the work.”

“I can do it,” James frowns harder, blinking open his eyes for the first time since he closed them. He still can’t see shit, but it’s the point of it.

“Maybe,” Aleks says, and James can see the way he shrugs in his mind, “But that’s not what I’m telling you to do, is it? Sit on his cock and let him do the work, James.”

“But -”

“Do we need to get the tape back on, James?” Brett cuts him off, more curious than threatening, and James clamps his mouth shut. Shakes his head.

“That’s not an answer.”

“No, sir,” He swallows, “We don’t.”

“Good.” Brett pushes him back a little and James does his best to balance but his legs are pretty much jelly at this point. He feels Brett reach between them, hears the zip of his pants and feels the shuffle of him pulling his dick out, feels the sudden heat between his legs, the brush of the wet head against his thighs. He’s hard, too, achingly so, but it’s hardly been a concern until _now_. Brett moves him how he wants him, settles one hand on his hip lightly and keeps himself steady and Aleks even gets off the couch, comes up behind James and helps him steady himself since his arms are useless. He hears the click of the lube again, hears Brett hiss and imagines the cold of it against his dick. His stomach clenches, his thighs shake with the little bit of weight he’s actually holding up himself between the two of them, and then the hot, wet head of Brett’s dick is pressing against his hole and he’s sinking down. They make him go slow, take it at a pace that he can handle, and he would appreciate it if he could think. But Brett’s got a good dick, it’s one of James’ favorites, and it honestly is all he can think about. Just Brett, the familiarity of the feeling, the heat and pressure of it, the twinge of discomfort, Aleks pressed against his back, nuzzling against the back of his neck through his hair, muttering something in what James can really only assume is Russian or Sims.

He doesn’t know quite what to do with himself once he’s settled in Brett’s lap, grips at Aleks’ shirt so he can’t just leave, and they both laugh at him. Aleks could easily break away, James has a weak grip, but he doesn’t, and being between them is what makes him relax and drop the last inch or so. He feels denim and zipper digging into his ass and it hurts, but in that distant way that his shoulders do. He leans back against Aleks, tilts his head on his shoulder, and follows Brett’s lead when he grips James’ hips again and lifts him a little, thrusts up sharp as he falls, and it punches a gasp right out of his lungs.

It feels good. Fuck, it feels good. He wants to feel it, wants to feel good for Brett, and for Aleks, especially after they did everything right, were good to him, so he tries to stay in the moment, to not drift or go under. He’d promised Brett he wouldn’t, so he grounds himself with the painful grip Brett’s got on his hips again, the way his shoulders are aching and his knees are sore and his legs are mostly asleep. He isn’t allowed to move, that’s not what they want from him, so he resists the urge to ground down on Brett’s dick, to ride him or to arch into it when Brett starts grinding up, and just holds still for them.  

Aleks gathers his hair up again, exposes the back of his neck, and presses open-mouthed kisses along his spine, bites gently - just enough for James to feel it - and he’d wrapped his arm around James’ waist to help support him and he hasn’t let go. They’re pressed so close, and it must be uncomfortable for Aleks, probably some weird melding of a high crouch, but James doesn’t want him to go.

Brett’s making soft noises under him, barely-there grunts every time he jerks his hips up, and James is suddenly glad for the blindfold because he thinks he would have been too overwhelmed by the visual of it to properly appreciate the audio. Now, though, he can hear every noise Brett makes - every noise _James_ is making Brett make.

Brett’s good about avoiding the spot that’ll make him disobey, but he also likes to push James sometimes, especially when Aleks is egging him on, and he doesn’t make a habit of being kind to James this time. He tilts James a little, just a bit, and Aleks goes with him, tightens his grip on James’ hair as a warning when it feels like James is gonna tip over and almost tries to catch himself. If he falls, it’s because they want him to, and he just needs to let it happen.

He’s still reeling just a little from that small spike of adrenaline when Brett does it, hits it right, and he doesn’t even process that he’s moaning, high-pitched and loud, until he feels his body rock into it without permission.

It isn’t his fault, they know that and he knows that, but he can’t help but frown, grip Aleks’ shirt tighter in case he tries to leave in punishment, “Sorry, _sorry_ , sir,”

“Don’t apologize,” Brett says tightly, sounding a little overwhelmed and he pats James’ hip, “It’s okay. You can do that, sweetheart,”

“It’s good that you offered an apology, though,” Aleks tugs his hair and he follows it, rests his head on Aleks’ shoulder, “And you remembered to say _sir_. You’re doin’ a good job, babe.”

James sighs, twists his fingers in Aleks’ shirt so he’s got a better handful, and he feels Brett touch that spot again, feels his body jerk, and he drifts.

“ _Fuck_ , he’s so relaxed…” he hears Brett groan, and he turns into Aleks’ neck, just...lets everything happen. Brett lifts him again and he doesn’t try to help and doesn’t need to. He doesn’t need his eyes to know Brett is easily manhandling him, and he knows he’s probably making a lot of noises but he just can’t really think to stop? His brain is all melty, the cloud is well and truly down around him, and everything feels muted and more intense all at once. Brett picks that spot and doesn’t stop hitting it and James knows he might be screaming, that his body jerks and spasms, but that he isn’t punished for it and no one says his name so he just gets to _be_. Brett has him for a long time, but he doesn’t know how long. He doesn’t exactly pass out, but time passes differently, maybe, when he’s like this. He just knows that it feels good, fuck, it feels _so good_ , and it’s hard at first, to not chase that feeling, but he trusts Brett to give it to him - or to not, and that’s okay, too. He doesn’t need to chase it, and Aleks would punish him if he did.

He doesn’t come back a little until he hears Brett growl, feels his hands tighten on his hips and realizes Aleks is talking to Brett in that quiet, intense way he does when one of them is about to come.

Brett moves James’ body faster, lifts him up and thrusts up when he pulls him down hard until there’s a steady slap of skin against skin and James can’t do anything but pant and hold tight to Aleks’ shirt until Brett groans quietly. James feels him jerk and pulse inside of him, feels his fingers dig painfully into the swell of James’ sides, feels Brett’s hips stutter under him before he’s pulled down and Brett arches up so they’re flush together. He feels Brett’s thighs flexing, can’t help but gasp at the way Brett’s clutching him so tightly and Brett makes a soft, appreciative noise when James flexes his inner muscles, works him through the orgasm. He goes loose all at once, drops them both back down to the couch from where he’d forces James up a little with the force of his hips, and settles into a slow, relaxed rolling into James’ body.

Aleks slowly tilts him forward until he’s leaning against Brett again and he immediately presses his face to Brett’s jawline, kisses the place where his jaw meets his skull. He’s still hard and shaking - he’s shaking, oh - but it’s a secondary concern to knowing he made Brett come. Aleks’ shirt slips out of his hands, but Brett wraps his arms around him, rocks him slow and steady through Brett’s aftershocks, and he doesn’t say his name so the words don’t really...register? But his voice is sweet and soft when he presses them into James’ shoulder and James is sure they’re meant for him. Maybe the words don’t stick, but the tone does, and James glows under them, can’t help but smile and press his luck by trying to get just a little closer, rock with Brett’s hips just to chase that feeling a little, _tin_ bit.

Brett’s always been less strict than Aleks, and James is rewarded for his subtle efforts with Brett squeezing him tighter, turning to hide a small grin into James’ neck even while he pinches James’ ass in a lighter punishment than Aleks would have doled out.

“Okay, sweetheart,” Brett sighs after a good, long moment of just holding him, letting his body calm down. His hips finally stop moving, but James can feel his thighs quivering under James’ own trembling body. “Aleks is gonna take you now. You can help me get you off, okay?”

“Okay,” He swallows, and makes his legs work long enough that Brett can pull out. He immediately feels wet between his cheeks, hears Brett laugh a little smugly and then his big, rough fingers are at his hole - tender, now, and sensitive, and he nearly flinches but just barely stops himself. Brett presses one inside and James shivers but tries to hold still for him. His thighs are shaking with strain already, he’s not sure how long he can hold himself up, but Brett pulls his finger out after a second and makes a pleased sound, wiping it off on James’ leg.

“Now off to Aleks,” Brett pats his ass, and then helps him roll off of his lap and into the spot next to him, where the hands change and he’s rolled again so that, after a second of careful knee placement, he’s sitting in Aleks’ lap, instead before he even realizes that he’s moving.

“Hi, James,” Aleks says, friendly and casual, like they’re just running into each other in the kitchen.

“Hey, sir,” James can’t help but smile, happy and floaty, and words are still hard to say but he tries, “How’s goin’?”

“Well,” Aleks runs his hands up James’ thighs, stops with his thumbs digging into the crease of James’ thigh and his fingers spread out along all the places where James is sure Brett left bruises. He’s gentle, doesn’t press down, even though James kind of wishes he would. “I finally got you calling me _sir_ , so it’s goin’ pretty okay.”

James flushes, shrugs a little, makes a pleased noise when Aleks starts to rub circles with his thumb.

“Color?”

“‘S green,” James says softly, eyes fluttering behind the blindfold when Aleks leans forward to kiss the corners of his mouth, to trail his lips up his cheek.

“How’re your shoulders?”

“Hurts,” James tries to shrug, but his arms are heavy and, now that he’s noticed, it hurts more than before.

“We’re gonna take the cuffs off -”

“Don’t,” James jolts, “Don’t, please,”

“Hey,” Aleks takes his hands off his thighs and, for a split second, James is free-floating and starts to panic, but then Aleks’ hands are on his face, bracketing him with warm palms, “Who makes the decisions here?”

James’ mouth thins, but he doesn’t answer until Aleks digs his thumbs into his jaw and makes him open his mouth.

“Answer me.”

“You, sir,” James spits, and the spark of arousal makes him shiver.

“Exactly. So we’re gonna take the cuffs off and put them back on in front of you and you’re gonna get back on your knees and suck me off. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,”

“Brett?”

“On it,” Brett says, and James hears him get up and stretch out with a quiet groan. There’s a shuffle of clothes, a zipper, Brett must be putting himself back together, and then he feels Brett behind him, lifting his arms up a little to get to the cuffs. He can’t help but hiss, duck his head against Aleks’ shoulder and just deal with it until Brett unlocks the first cuff.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Brett sounds disapproving, “You didn’t tell us it was bad.”

James doesn’t know what to say to that so he just breathes out and lets Brett help him roll his arm forward, slow and careful, until he’s got it in front of him. Brett releases the second cuff, helps him unlock the muscles until they’re both in front of him, kind of useless for the time being.

“If we can’t trust you to be honest,” Aleks makes him sit up, “Then you don’t get the cuffs.”

“But you _said_ -” James starts, outraged, and he hears the slap, feels his face turn with it, before he _feels_ it. Aleks doesn’t hold back this time and it stings a lot more than the first one, hot and humiliating. He’s gonna have a red cheek for at least an hour, gonna maybe bruise a little, and that shouldn’t make his breathing hitch but it does.

“You broke the rules.” Aleks says and he doesn’t _sound_ angry, but he catches James’ face in another painful grip, presses his fingertips into the sore skin he’s been hitting every time he slaps James mercilessly, “This is the punishment.”

James wants to argue, he does, but...but he did break the rules. He was supposed to tell them when it started to hurt and he didn’t. It’s fair, and he knows that, but _still_ -

Still. Aleks and Brett are in charge and Aleks says no cuffs as punishment and James doesn’t get to fight him on it.

“Understand?” Aleks makes him nod his head with the grip he has on him. “Say it.”

“I understand,” James swallows, “Sir.”

“Good.” Aleks lets go of his face, shoves him a little. Not quite enough to send him off the couch, but enough that he gets the message. Brett moves away from his back and James sinks to the floor only for Brett to tug him back up by his hair, just long enough to get the pillow under his knees.

“You look good like this,” Aleks says, brushes fingers along James’ cheek, and James wrinkles his nose up at him but he can’t help but feel warmed by the praise. He likes it when they like him, especially like this.

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, wishes he could have the cuffs back but knows that they’re out of the question. _Maybe_ if Brett were alone, but Aleks wouldn’t let him get away with begging. He settles them on his thighs, tilts his head up toward Aleks, feels the warmth of his legs bracketing him in.

He hears the button of Aleks’ pants being popped, the zipper coming down, more shuffling and then the sound of skin on skin, Aleks’ soft gasp, and he gets the mental image of Aleks touching himself, fingers wrapped tight around his dick.

“Maybe this should be the rest of your punishment,” Aleks says, and it’s breathless enough to make James whine. He wants to _touch_.

He hears Brett settle back into the couch, closer to Aleks than he had been before. James imagines that they’re flush against each other, and he’s proven at least a little correct when Aleks makes another soft, moaning noise and Brett chuckles low. They're quiet except for their breathing, muffled, and he can imagine the way they’re kissing, can imagine Brett’s big hand wrapping around Aleks’ dick and pumping. He gives it a solid ten seconds, counts in his head as best he can, and then he clears his throat a little, hoping to catch their attention again.

It doesn’t work so, after another ten seconds, James does it again except louder.

He hears them both laugh, feels Brett’s hand tangle in his hair again and tug a little.

“You’re not very good at taking punishments.”

“How am I supposed to let you suck my dick when you aren’t honest with us, James?” Aleks asks, and James _knows_ that they aren’t _mad_ at him, but he still has to clench his eyes tight and try not to lower his head.

“Answer me, James,” Aleks says after a few seconds of silence, and James opens his mouth but takes another few seconds to answer.

“I’m sorry,” He starts with, “I’m - sorry, sir, sorry,”

“Why are you sorry?” Aleks presses a boot to James’ thigh and it’s - it’s enough contact to make James shudder.

“For not -” James stops, does have to let his neck go limp when Aleks moves his boot up a little, until it’s close to James’ dick, “Not telling you. I should have. I won’t do it again -”

“No, you won’t.” Brett says, loosens his grip on James’ hair so he can curl in on himself a little, and then Aleks presses the bottom of his boot against James’ dick and James’ toes curl. He resists the urge to rut - it would _hurt_ , and he isn’t that desperate, not yet. Aleks presses down a little - just enough that it kind of hurts, and then lets up.

“Maybe I’ll let you,” Aleks decides, and his voice is a little high, still breathless. If James listens close, he can still hear the slide of skin that tells him Brett hasn’t let up. “If you _really_ want it. Do you, James?”

“Please,” James shifts, makes a high-pitched noise when Aleks presses down with his shoe in punishment, “Please, I want it, I can do it, _please_ , just gimme a chance, sir,”

“What do you think, Brett?”

“He sounds like he wants it,” Brett laughs, “And you know what happens if we leave his mouth free for too long.”

Aleks made a noise of distaste. “He gets snappy.”

“Exactly.”

“I _guess_ , then,” Aleks sighs, like it’s a great chore to have James suck him off, and Brett pulls him forward by his hair until he’s face-first in Aleks’ groin. He didn’t bother pulling his pants down and the zipper catches a little in James’ beard, pulls a bit before either snapping or releasing strands of hair, but James can barely focus on that because Aleks’ dick is hard and hot and slick against his nose and cheek, he can feel the pressure of it against his closed eye through the blindfold. Aleks sighs, tilts his hips up a little and grinds onto James’ face, and James resists the urge to lick or rub his face against his shaft. He just - waits, panting and aroused and _wanting_.

It’s...it’s a long time of Aleks just slowly rolling his hips into James’ face, making these quiet little sighing sounds every time he thrusts up. James is sure he’s getting fucking pre-come in his hair and his beard because he feels it smeared on his cheek, across his nose and mouth when Aleks teases him with the head resting _just_ barely against his bottom lip. His eyes are closed, he feels his brain going soft, feels himself start to drift, and Aleks and Brett both just pet his hair and let him. They’ll tell him when they need him, or just move him where they want him. He’s okay to just...be.

When Aleks lifts his head off his thigh, James doesn’t bother opening his eyes, but he lets his lips fall apart and Aleks makes a pleased sound. He tastes Aleks against his lips, feels the head of his dick slip into his mouth and then Aleks brings his head down until he’s nestled in his lap face-down. His mouth and throat are full, just barely able to breathe until Aleks pushes him down all the way. He feels him slip past his uvula, into his throat, and he doesn’t struggle against it. Swallows on instinct, once, but goes still when Aleks makes a disapproving noise. Brett strokes his back, makes him straighten out and raise his arms to brace against Aleks’ thighs, but he doesn’t try to get away or suck or swallow. He knows he’s probably drooling, but Aleks just keeps making those soft, sighing sounds and petting his hair as he rocks his hips. When he pulls back, James takes the opportunity to breathe, and then he holds it when Aleks rocks forward. It’s a pattern, one he can get used to, and he only swallows when it’s instinctive and he can’t control it. He doesn’t get slapped or pinched for it, just has one of them gather his hair up again and use it as a handle to hold him in place for Aleks’ gentle thrusting.

If he didn’t need to focus on breathing, James honestly could have fallen asleep. He feels loose and warm, secure and safe between Aleks’ legs with Brett’s hands on him. There’s a moment, at some point, where it gets rougher, when Aleks uses his hair and fucks his face until his tongue is numb and his jaw is sore, but he isn’t really _there_ for most of it. Enjoys it, welcomes it, does his best to stay open for Aleks, but he can’t participate. He can barely remember his own name. He’s floating good and high.

Aleks says something, but he doesn’t say James’ name so it isn’t to him and James doesn’t listen to it. Whatever it is, though, it must be some kind of signal because James is suddenly and roughly pulled up so he isn’t in Aleks’ lap anymore, isn’t warming his cock, and he’s got a second to pant and mourn before Aleks makes a cut off, choking sound and James feels hot strings of what he can only assume is come on his cheeks and forehead, a bit across his lips.

It makes him shudder and moan low in his throat, makes him feel - used, with spit and come on his face and leaking out of him and down his thighs, possibly onto the pillow under him.

“Fuck,” Aleks says, sounding satisfied and gooey, “Good job, babe.”

“We should take a picture,” Brett says, sounds husky, and there’s a second of shifting and then James hears the snap of someone’s phone. He almost wants to preen, wants to see the picture. Instead, he settles back on his knees, drops his hands back to his shivering thighs. He still misses the cuffs, but it’s a punishment he deserves and one he’ll remember.

“Whelp,” Aleks’ voice goes a little loud, then he hears the sound of his clothes, of his zipper, of him putting himself back together. He’s back to being the only exposed one in the room and it makes him all - weird, inside, knowing that. He feels...not quite whole, but in a good way. Like he could just - drop to the floor and they’d be there to catch him. “That’s that, then, huh, James?”

James wrinkles his brow, opens his mouth to answer but...can’t quite. Words are too much now. Maybe in a minute, he could, but not now.

“You look ready to pop, sweetheart,” Brett mentions offhandedly, “That hurt?”

Words are still out, so he shrugs a little. It doesn’t _not_ hurt, but...it doesn’t hurt like his shoulders did, either. It’s just an itch in the back of his mind that he wouldn’t mind being scratched, but is kind of sure would go away if left alone, too.

“Poor James,” Aleks laughs, and it’s fond and nice, “You want to get off, babe?”

James wrinkles his brows again, tries to think of how he wants to answer that. He _does_ , but...it isn’t important. He can’t say that non-verbally, though, so he just shrugs again then, slow, nods.

“You’ve been...mostly good. And I think you’ve been punished for the cuffs thing enough. You’ll remember this, won’t you? About not being honest? Answer me, James.”

“Yes, sir,” James whispers, and his voice is wrecked even to his own ears.

“I know you will,” Aleks says and someone reaches out to chuck him under the chin. “Brett, what do you think?”

Brett hums, and then James can hear shuffling, Aleks’ quiet giggling, Brett shushing him, and then there’s a socked foot on his thigh. Aleks had taken his boot off when he’d pulled James into his lap but this foot was bigger - Brett’s. Brett shifts his foot so it’s pressed against his dick, rubs slow and casual, and James feels his entire face go red.

“Don’t move. But you can come whenever, okay?”

“Okay, sir,” James mumbles, weak, and then bites back a gasp when Brett lightly runs his foot up his cock. It’s not - the foot thing. They don’t have a foot thing, it’s - it’s that neither of them even bother to pull him up and use their hands, or let him do it. It’s that Brett has probably just stretched out in contentment, let Aleks curl into his side for some post-orgasm cuddling, and he’s laid his foot in James’ lap as an afterthought. Just some last-minute thing he’d thought to do. James doesn’t know why that’s hot. He _hates_ feeling ignored or like an afterthought, but this is - it’s a lot for him to handle. He’s not holding on by a string, there is no string. He’s not holding on at all. He’s barely aware of anything except for Brett’s foot in his lap, working over his shaft slow with the rough material of his sock, just the sounds of their voices in case they say his name and nothing else. It’s a small world, not a lot of stimulus, but plenty to have his chest heaving, his hips and thighs shaking hard with the strain of not moving, his toes and fingers frantically curling up and straightening out.

“James,” Aleks says his name, soft and quiet, much closer than James had thought he was, and James tilts his head up, biting into his lip hard enough that he thinks he may have drawn blood, makes a soft noise to show he’s listening. “James, open.”

James doesn’t hesitate, drops his mouth open again and then Aleks leans down and slots their mouths together in the first kiss they’ve shared all night. James makes a weak noise, overwhelmed, and Brett digs his heel hard into the base of his dick just as Aleks breathed out into his mouth and he’s filled with cigarette smoke. He inhales sharply, digs his nails into his thighs, feels the smoke fill his whole body up, Aleks’ chapped lips against his, Brett’s foot rubbing the underside of his cock, and then he’s coming.

It’s - it’s a good orgasm. His whole body rolls with it and then jerks. It starts out in his gut and then explodes almost painfully, too intense for how he’s feeling, like glass shattering. He curls in on himself as best he can with Aleks breathing smoke into his mouth, makes a high, long noise as he trembles through it, feels hot come against his stomach and chest and thighs, more than he really expects. Aleks break the kiss to laugh and James exhales the smoke in a sharp exhale, leans forward to rest his forehead against his shoulder as Brett works his foot over James’ dick, until it’s so painful that James almost breaks and tries to move away. The cotton of his sock is rough and too-much against the sensitive skin of his cock, makes him jump every time the heel brushes against his thighs, hyperaware of everything touching him.

“Jesus,” he hears Brett say, foggy and far away, “Lay him out. He’ll want a picture.”

He feels hands on his shoulders, tipping him back, and he goes with it until he’s on his back on the carpet. Aleks stuffs a pillow under his head and shoulders, forces his legs open so he’s on display when he tries to close them to protect his sensitive parts, and James sighs at the warm hands on his skin, stretches out when he remembers that there’s no getting away, and then goes lax and boneless against the floor. He hears them both laugh, feels Aleks walk fingers across his softening dick and jerks hard at the feeling but doesn’t try to push him away.

“Was a good one, I guess, huh, babe?” Aleks leaves his dick alone, instead brushes along his ribs and James tilts his head a little but doesn’t try to chase the feeling, as nice as it is. He hums in response, moves a few fingers up and down in a mimicry of a nod because moving his head sounds like too much work.

He hears a few snaps, the sound of pictures he thinks, and part of him _does_ want to see them. He’s got a mental picture of himself in his head, ruined, and he wants to see it, see what _they_ see. The rest of him just wants to bask in the warm room and shiver with residual aftershocks, and it’s a little bit stronger.

“Okay, okay,” Aleks rubs his belly slow and firm, and then pulls at his shoulders a little, “Photoshoot’s over. Up, James. Brett, come help,”

James grumbles, but he lets Aleks sit him back up and then he’s being bundled up in Aleks’ arms until Brett can get up and physically lift him off the ground and over to the couch. James knows he’s dead weight but, to be fair, he’d been beaten into it from the moment he’d been pinned to the door. Brett settles onto the couch, helps James get comfortable mostly on his lap with his legs stretched out along the couch and he hears the door creak open. Brett starts to pull at the blindfold but James isn’t ready for that, for sight, and he shakes his head until Brett stops.

“Not yet?” Brett asks, quiet, and James makes an affirming noise and leans against him, tucks his head under Brett’s and relaxes into the soothing touches when Brett starts to run his fingers across his skin, over his shoulders and down his chest, along his hips, over the soft folds of his stomach, big palm running along the back of his thighs. Brett says something, but he’s tired, now, and he doesn’t listen to intently because it doesn’t involve his name. He just presses his ear to Brett’s shoulder, listens to his body under his skin, to the even breathing that moves Brett’s chest.

He hears the door close with a click after some time. Aleks joins them back on the couch and he gets a warning in the form of “Time to clean that shit up, babe,” before there’s a warm, wet cloth on his face that makes him wrinkles his nose in a way that has them both laughing, Brett’s shoulders shaking enough that he actually sits up.

“Not a fan of the facial?” Aleks teases, moving the cloth to his belly and thighs and dick and then between his legs. It’s - intimate, feels like exactly what he wants to be happening.

Aleks picks his legs up when they’re done, sets them in his lap so he can relax properly into the couch, and rubs up and down his skin until James is trying not to giggle at the tickling brush of fingers. He still feels floaty, vulnerable and used, and he hasn’t forgotten that he’s the only naked one in the room, the only one that still has his dick out, but he kind of likes that. He likes the way Brett is stroking his chest and the way Aleks is rubbing his feet and has tangled the fingers of one of his hands with James’. He just - basks in the quiet attention, sated and loose with it. When he feels ready, he nudges his face into Brett’s shoulder until the blindfold starts to come off and, by then, Brett’s got the hint and helps him pull it off.

He squeezes his eyes shut for a long moment, and then carefully opens them, just a little bit at a time.

The room’s dim, just one of the soft lamps on and the curtains drawn, the dark walls and furniture making it feel small and cozy. Just the three of them.

“There’s our boy,” Brett grins and it makes James smile back stupidly.

“You are _gone_ , babe,” Aleks laughs a little, and he’s so _bright_ , even in the dark of the room. James just leans back against Brett’s chest, sighs. He’ll...he’ll talk in a minute.

Aleks watches him, eyes bright and fond and a little awed, and it makes James feel all warm and stupidly happy in his chest.

“Let’s get you to bed, huh?” Brett decides, and James makes a disapproving noise in the back of his throat, but Brett’s made the decision and it’s either let Brett fireman carry him or stand up so he does. His legs are shaky, offer nearly zero support, but Aleks ducks under one arm and Brett’s got a good grip on his waist. Leaving the room makes him uncomfortable, it always does, but it’s just across the hall to the bedroom and they don’t toss him into the sheets. Brett pulls the blankets down, strips his clothes off and crawls in before he pulls James in with him, and then Aleks gets out of his clothes and turns the light off before he joins them. James gets smushed between them both and that - is perfect.

“You were amazing,” Brett mumbles, kisses his forehead.

“He’s always amazing,” Aleks scoffs, spoons up behind him and squeezes a possessive arm around his waist that makes both James and Brett giggle. “Even when he’s being a pain.”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if he was actually listening,”

“Shut up,” Aleks squeezes his hip and James feels like that’s somehow a signal that it’s okay for him to finally rest.

Brett says something back, pleased and possibly complementary, but it doesn’t have James’ name in it so he doesn’t pay attention. It’s a good feeling, like being wrapped in warm silk. He just drifts, and then he sleeps.

 


End file.
